Archives for June 2013

Cascade Platinum Pacs Saved My Dishwasher

Cascade Platinum Pacs Saved My Dishwasher

Cleaning like a man never got so easy since Cascade Premium Pacs!

Sticking his head in the dishwasher has never been my husband’s idea of fun.  But that is exactly what he did one cold February night this year.  As he reached in to the appliance to clear what can only be described as “gunk,” Adam screamed in pain.  Not only was he waist deep in our dishwasher, he had just sliced open his finger trying to clear whatever was causing the machine to flood at every rinse and dry.  Watching Adam struggle to dismantle, clean each small component and then reassemble our dishwasher that Sunday night lead me to conclude that there had to be better solution than our bi-monthly pow-wows with what can arguably be the third most important appliance in the kitchen; the first being the refrigerator and the second, the stove.

There is a solution.  It’s called Cascade Platinum Pacs.

Here’s the story’s punch line: After all the literal blood, sweat and tears (from cutting his finger), Adam and I still had to call a plumber.  Nothing we could do would stop the machine from flooding each time it ran and I knew that we had reached our limit when we started to blame each other for not pre-washing the plates prior to putting them in the very same dishwasher that supposedly would allow us to put the plates directly in it without NEEDING TO pre-rinse the dishes.

So we called a plumber, who incidentally was quite charming and kind, but who still charged us $125 to clear the gunk and offer some much needed advice: “Get rid of the liquid generic dishwasher liquid you are using.  Stop buying over-priced biodegradable soap that leaves spots on your glasses and doesn’t really clean your dishes.  Go to the store and buy Cascade Platinum pacs.”  And so we did.

As soon as we swapped out the generic liquid stuff and started using Cascade Platinum pacs, our plates looked cleaner and we noticed that the grey film that was once left on our glasses had disappeared.  Even better?  The inside of the dishwasher looked like a new machine, not the 10 year-old Model we’d moved from condo to house to new house. Our dishwasher stopped flooding (and the dog stopped lapping up the puddles and then throwing up the soapy water), the dishes didn’t have unrecognizable caked on food and, as I mentioned before, our glasses were clear: no more spots.

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This dish wouldn’t be quite so appealing if the plate was grey.

Every once in awhile, I agree to review a product that I’ve been using for some time.  The last review about dish soap was for Dawn.  Not ironically, the Cascade Premium Pacs have the Dawn grease fighting power.  Because we have seen such a dramatic difference not only in the appearance of our dishes but also the appearance and functionality of our dishwasher, I wanted you to know about our success.  Maybe thinking about your dishwasher detergent isn’t top on your mind today, but when you are foodies like Adam and me or have been embarrassed once or twice when someone has found a lipstick mark on a wine glass (yes, that has happened to me,) then you are familiar with the “icky” feeling when a guest asks for a different glass or utensil.  Since we started using Cascade Premium pacs, our flat wear and utensil concerns have dissipated.  Now we can concentrate on more important matters like whether or not the Chicago Bears starting line-up will be any good this year.

 

I participated in a campaign on behalf of Mom Central Consulting for Cascade. I received a product sample to facilitate my review and a promotional item as a thank you for participating.

The Pussy (Cat) Diary: Getting My Revenge

The Pussy (Cat) Diary: Getting My Revenge

As dictated by Sabine (the cat) and transcribed by Renee (the Mom) & Lulu (the kid) 

A Day in the Life Of Sabine

A cat’s life is never easy. Cats are really smart but physically,  the domestic breed is  pretty small.  Thus, some humans immediately label me as having “a complex.”  I dont’ know what it is and I don’t want to know.    I’m almost 20 years old.  That’s like 100 in human years.  It’s no wonder that I need therapy!  Check the most recent page from my diary:

Day #998

  • 6:55 a.m.: I am now awake and ready to eat!  But my keeper is not out of bed and waiting to feed me!  I need to remedy this and start to sing as loudly and as off tune as possible. (Little do they know that I have pooped at the bottom of the landing of the stairs!  “What your step!  Oops….that’s a rotten way to start your day!”  HeHeHe!)
  • 7:00 a.m.  Did I mention watch your step? Got her! Ha!
  • 7:02 a.m.: Oh! That smell! That horrible, fishy smell fills the air as she opens a small metal disc. My stomach churns.  If it wasn’t for my arthritic hips, I would jump on my keeper with my claws and show her who’s really boss!  Darn hips!
    • The Beast is stupid too: it dives into its by-product dish of food and devours it.  
    • After it’s finished, the Beast burps in my direction, regurgitates some of its food and then eats it again.  Primitive Creature!
  • 7:05 a.m. In retaliation, I throw up all of my food just to get back at my keeper.  That disgusting beast eats it too!   
  • 8:00 a.m.: The Keeper has put a leather rope around the Beast’s throat and taken it outside for what I assume is a chance to escape from this prison.  Strangely, it comes back and seems happier than ever. It must be the pills she puts in its food every morning.
  • 8:15 a.m.: The Keeper is going out.  She grabs a snack for the Beast and lures it downstairs using this sweet sing-songy voice saying “Come on sweet baby” repeatedly.  It climbs into its iron prison the humans refer to as “a crate.”  Stupid Beast!
  • 9:00 a.m.:  I venture downstairs to make sure the Beast isn’t dead.  I know that I would get blamed somehow if the dog “kicks it.”  It’s still alive.  It looks at me with pathetic, sad eyes as if asking me to let it out of “the crate.”  As if!
  • 9:02 a.m.: I decide to torment the Beast: my daily pleasure.  I slowly stroll back and forth in front of the cage. I like to comment about the joy of having the house to myself and how sad it is that the Beast has to spend the day in a small cage while I can wander freely through the entire house   YAWN…Every few minutes the Beast lunges at me.  But I just sit in front of the cage and smile.  I could unlock the cage, you know.  But why bother?  I love to see the Beast grovel and cry. It is just so pathetic. To mark my spot, I cough up a hairball.
  • 3:00 p.m.: I am awoken from a sound sleep by the echoes of shoes running through the house.  The small person must be home and I need to hide lest she see me and decide that she wants to pick me up. There aren’t a lot of places in this giant box so I choose directly under the dining table–less chance of the child reaching in and catching me.
  • 5:00 p.m.: It’s dinner time.  I have to endure another dose of this gruel!  In protest, I use the  litter box first in hopes of making the first level of the house smell as bad as it can.  What do I care?  I can’t smell a thing!
  • 5:15 p.m.:  I spot the small person and run.  Sadly, due to my age and arthritis, I am unable to outrun its chubby legs.  It grabs me by the tail and I scream in indignation and some pain.  I hear the Keeper tell the little person that “the cat’s tail is not for pulling.”  I hiss at the creature and remind myself that I will get even later tonight after “Mom” is sleeping.  I will sneak into the small person’s bed tonight and sit on its face. Nothing like a little cat hair in your mouth to make you choke!
  • 7:00 p.m.: It’s last call for the Beast. I sit by the door waiting for it to open so I can rush out.  I know that I have to be swift if I am going to escape.  Usually they notice me and kick me away from the door.  But not tonight! The “Keeper” opens the door and I slip out.  I am FREE! I run like my life depends on it and  hide under the porch so no one will be able to find me.
  • 8:00 p.m.: Where the hell are they?  The humans strolled around the yard for almost 3 minutes with their big lights looking for me and then gave up. Now their inside the house probably talking about me in past tense terms.    I am hungry and have no idea how to find my own food!  What’s an old feline to do?   A mouse runs by me.  Did I just hear it snicker?  I start to whine.
  • 8:15 p.m.: I crawl out from under the porch.   My feelings are extremely  hurt.   This is Senior Feline abuse!  Who the hell leaves their old house cat outside?  I find the door and scratch it.  Yes!  Long, thin scratches.  The paint instantly peals off of the door in sheets.  I have made my mark.  But no one comes to the door to let me in.
  • 9:00 p.m.: I am crying and scratching at the door.  Still, no one comes to let me in the house.  Are they going to let me die out here?
  • 11:00 p.m.: I have given up.  I decide that I will freeze to death.  Just as I have resigned myself that I am about to lose the remaining 8 of my lives, a light goes on.  The door opens and my keeper scoops me up in her arms.   I purr with relief that she has found me and brought me inside.
  • 11:01 p.m.: That’s enough love for her!   I look at her with pure hate, hiss and dig my front claws into the Keeper’s arm.  She screams. All is right with the world.  I climb up onto the leather couch, dig my claws into the soft hide.  I curl up and go to sleep.
Another successful day has come to an end.

The “Beast” the humans call “Maya.”

This blog post was inspired by the great “Mama Kat’s Losin It” workshop.  Please click on the link for other fantastic articles from fabulous writers including Mama Kat.